


let's watch this water boil

by reylofuckntrash



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Bondage, Caning, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Cages, Dark, Dark Rey (Star Wars), Dominant Rey, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Empress Rey, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fisting, Force Bondage, Force Gagging, Force suppression, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Submissive Ben Solo, Submissive Kylo Ren, Tags Contain Spoilers, VERY brief mention of pregnancy but no one is pregnant, Vaginal Fingering, ben bby im sorry for this, how is that not a tag already can we start shutting ppl up with the force, ok i think that's everything pls lmk if i missed something, only very briefly mentioned but still tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:49:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25264129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reylofuckntrash/pseuds/reylofuckntrash
Summary: The correct answer, of course, is yes. No matter the question, with Rey, his answer is always yes.“That’s better,” she murmurs, and he imagines he can hear pride in her voice. “Look at me, sweetheart.”His silly heart still skips a beat whenever she calls himsweetheart, ordarling, orbaby. That he can still be loved, after all he’s done, is a Force-given miracle. He has no misconception that such love is unconditional, but Rey tells him she loves him, and he believes her.He is a good boy. He tries to be.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	let's watch this water boil

“Good boy,” Rey croons, and he preens. He wants to be good for her. He’s been kneeling in the imperial bedchamber, unmoving, for the better part of two hours. It might have been longer, he thinks, based on the ache in his knees, the ache between his legs. It’s not his job to know. 

Here, he can stop thinking. He can allow the newfound silence in his mind to expand, to settle like a thick blanket over his consciousness until everything is a dull, pleasant haze.The only thing that comes through clearly is Rey.

Rey is here, he recalls, and realizes that she’s still speaking to him. 

“Isn’t that right?” she asks, her voice saccharine-sweet. 

There’s a brief moment of panic as he scrambles to wrack his brain for the correct answer. It hits him a millisecond before the pain blossoms, a line of fire over his ass that is quickly accompanied by another neatly spaced an inch below, the cane resting atop the mark it’s left as though proudly surveying its work.

“Yes, Empress,” he answers with only a slight waver in his voice, aware that he’s expected to react _appropriately_ — not to cry out, or even grunt, but to take the correction in stride. To be too stoic is a mistake as well, he’s learned. Best not to leave any doubt that she is using enough force with him, or the next blow will be twice as hard. 

The correct answer, of course, is yes. No matter the question, with Rey, his answer is always yes. 

“That’s better,” she murmurs, and he imagines he can hear pride in her voice. “Look at me, sweetheart.” 

His silly heart still skips a beat whenever she calls him _sweetheart_ , or _darling_ , or _baby_. That he can still be loved, after all he’s done, is a Force-given miracle. He has no misconception that such love is unconditional, but Rey tells him she loves him, and he believes her. 

He is a good boy. He tries to be. 

He lifts his head to meet her gaze, his eyes honey-warm with absolute devotion. He would worship her, if Rey let him: build her an altar of their enemies, of his own flesh and bone. He would sing her praises to anyone who would listen, and swiftly dispatch anyone who would not. She deserves nothing less. 

Rey is smiling down at him, and for a moment, all is right with the galaxy. The deep sting of the cane recedes, and he is grateful for her clemency, in only giving him two. He deserves worse.

His hair, now long and unkempt, falls into his eyes, and still he keeps his position, blinking through it up at her. Pleased, she reaches to stroke his hair back from his face, smiles patiently. “I’ve let it get too long, haven’t I?” she asks, tsking at her own thoughtlessness, and he keeps his mouth shut. Her hand is a cool, gentle touch to a body that has known a lifetime of violence, and he won’t say anything to risk losing it. He wants so badly to be good in any way she will allow him. “No. I like it like this,” she decides, and he releases a small amount of tension in his shoulders. Rey is pleased with him. He can still please her. 

Her hand is still pulled away a moment later, and he stifles a noise of discontent. If he could request such things, he would ask her to touch him like this always, to hold and soothe him until he is whole again.

(He cannot ask for that, of course. There is nothing that will make him whole again.)

“On the bed,” Rey tells him, and he scrambles to obey. Ignores the screaming in his knees, the sharp jolt from the twin welts across his ass from his earlier hesitance. He does not even wince from the weight of his body on the fresh marks or the old scars that litter his back, memories of harder punishments meted out before he’d proven himself to her. Before she’d known that he could be _good_ , when given the chance. 

“Good. Don’t move,” she murmurs, eyes raking over his body in silent appreciation, and he flushes from his neck to the tips of his ears. 

(She loves that even after all the things she’s done to him, he can be unravelled so easily for her. He will blush and cry just as soon from her singular attention as he did when he took her fist, pink from his ears to his tight little hole; when he’d wailed and pled, but still came and came when she commanded. That was the first night he’d earned her love.)

Rey strips off her dress, some diaphanous black gown that billows and yet hides no part of her body. She is no longer the malnourished sand rat that he’d met all that time ago, but lean and strong, achingly beautiful.

He’d thought she was perfect the moment he laid eyes on her, but he doesn’t dare say something like that now.

His mouth goes dry, realizing that she’d worn nothing beneath the sheer gauzy fabric. Whomever she’d had an audience with before this had seen her nearly like this, in all her beauty. The man he’d been before would have felt fury at the thought, but that possessiveness has been trained out of him. She is not _his_ like he is hers. She is not to be owned by any man, woman, or beast. She is wild, and he bears the scars to prove it.

Naked, she crawls onto the bed, settles on his knees. He wonders if she can feel the ache there, if she intends to compound it with her weight, and decides it does not matter. As long as she is there, gracing him with her presence, her attention, it does not matter.

“I was impatient to get back to you today,” Rey informs him, with a dark look in her eyes that he cannot quite read. He hopes it means that she will be sweet to him, but he knows he has not earned that yet, and likely never will. It is far more likely that she intends to continue his training, and he is grateful beyond words.

She can feel his gratitude, of course, and nods magnanimously. “I know. You were impatient, too, I can tell.” She leans in and settles her chin on his thigh, turning her head so her breath puffs out between his legs. 

He hisses. Even that slight sensation is unbearable, with his cock trapped in the cage. It is not the cruelest device he’s worn, but the metal bars that curve down his length are just long enough to accommodate him fully flaccid, and even the slightest arousal has his cock swelling past the point of comfort, which is exactly the point.

* * *

“I own your pleasure, don’t I?” Rey had asked, the question rhetorical but still expecting an answer, frowning as he pulled against the metal restraints binding him to a table not unlike the interrogation table she’d come to know. She’d grabbed his balls in a gloved hand, twisting painfully until he cried out his answer, his voice already hoarse. 

“Yes, Empress!” he’d sobbed with relief when she released him, his chest heaving with each shaky breath. 

“And I own your arousal,” she continued, with a swat at his traitorously half-hard cock almost casually. “Yes, yes,” he’d agreed desperately, still fighting so hard against the restraints to draw himself away from the pain, his cock already red and aching from his punishment.

“And do you _deserve_ to be aroused? To come?” she’d asked. It might as well have been a scripted answer, the way he spoke without hesitation, unwavering in his self-loathing. “No, Empress.” 

“Then beg me to cage your cock.” 

He begged.

* * *

Rey grins, delighted to hear his hiss of discomfort, and reaches out a finger to trace between the bars of the cage, stroking the sensitive skin of his cock with the lightest possible touch. It takes all of his willpower not to buck his hips into the touch, to chase any possible sensation despite the constricting pain of the cage, but he is good. He can be good. He settles for a soft whine, emitted behind his clenched teeth, and something in his chest twists when she looks up at him with another warm, beautiful smile.

“I know,” she murmurs, sounding for all the world like she sympathizes. “I know. It hurts, doesn’t it?” she coos, and strokes her finger up and down his shaft so torturously lightly he feels he might come out of his skin. His thighs twitch, beneath where Rey has her head placed, and she laughs softly. 

“I was thinking about you waiting for me,” she continues, with that same patient tone, even as the brush of her finger turns into her nail, tracing the same path, not digging in but the threat clear enough that it brings a lump to his throat. “Waiting on your knees for your Empress, after I got you so worked up this morning.” 

He’s trying not to move, trying so hard to be still, but the memory of that morning has his hips jerking just once before he forces them down again. He’d woken Rey with his mouth, as he often did, and she’d used his overgrown hair to keep him there until his jaw ached, until she’d come so many times her legs were shaking. She’d let him rest with her in bed until she regained her strength, taken the cage off and teased him until he could say nothing but _please_ and _Rey_ , and then locked him again while she took her last orgasm from his tongue.

“Don’t move,” she says again, the command clear in her voice, and he tries, he _tries_ to obey. But then she’s lowering her mouth, lifting the cage with one finger and sticking out her tongue to just barely brush over his slit, and he _howls_ , jerks frantically. It’s only once, before he’s compelled still again, the Force constricting him to his previous position. He’s trying to apologize with his eyes, now that his jaw is clamped shut, but Rey is frowning down at him, and he feels he might break. The Force that once ran through him is holding him hostage, and he aches between his legs, in his knees, in his heart—and worst of all, he can feel her disappointment.

_I’m sorry,_ he tries to project, as though he can force their bond open again, as though he can feel any part of the Force besides what Rey inflicts on him, with the cage locked between his legs and the chemical collar around his throat, suppressing his powers altogether. The only relief is through Rey, and he’s failed her again.

“I told you not to move,” Rey sighs, displaying none of the anger she feels burning inside, when she knows that disapproval is a much more effective way of controlling him. 

“I was thinking of letting you come,” she adds, twisting the knife, though of course she had never had any intention of letting him orgasm this year. “If you were good.” 

There are tears in his eyes and he blinks rapidly, until she stops that movement too with an errant thought. He’s entirely still, helpless underneath her, and it makes Rey so incredibly wet that she doesn’t waste any more time teasing him. 

She repositions herself to straddle his hips, her glistening cunt just millimeters away from his denied cock. She slips a finger into her wetness and drags it up to circle her clit, as ruthless with her own pleasure as she is with all things, now that she has taken her rightful place on the throne.

“If you were good, I’d fuck myself on your cock,” she breathes, and slips a finger inside her, her other hand cupping her breast and squeezing, satisfied with the longing in his eyes as he watches, unable to look away. “I might have even let you come inside me. But you can’t give me that, can you? You’ll never give me a family, with this useless cock.” 

She starts to lose focus as she draws closer to her release, and the Force’s grip on him loosens, allowing him to blink and sniffle and flex his fingers helplessly where his arms are still pinned to his sides. “Rey,” he starts, his voice broken, with tears of frustration at the corners of his eyes— 

Rey comes with a sharp gasp at that sight. She’s still fucking her fingers, relishing that sweet despair in his expression, her release coating his neglected cock, now straining against the bars of the cage. Slowly, as she comes down from her orgasm, she withdraws her fingers and crawls up the bed to press them to those full, pink lips. He opens and sucks the taste of her off her fingers with a soft groan, and Rey smiles, soft and beatific, and presses a feather-light kiss to his forehead. 

“How could anyone else love you?” she murmurs, and thrusts her fingers in further to stifle his sob, her smile only widening when he gags. “Shh. One day you’ll be good. I’ll help you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is just 2.2k words of straight PORN bc there was only one reylo fic tagged cock cage and that just does not work for me
> 
> title from [son little's "lay down"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zilN0KCkhRA) which is pretty much on repeat in rey's mind here especially "lay down your words are worthless"
> 
> scold me for this on twitter @[reylofuckntrash](https://twitter.com/reylofuckntrash)


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